Shifting, I try to assuage the need but it’s fruitless. I can’t get enough pressure and friction. Being suspended in this place of unmet, aching need is pleasurable in a way, though it would be more so if I had faith that Killian’s will would eventually break.
Stubborn man. What will it take to get him to give me what I need?
I apply my free hand to the part of his shaft that won’t fit inside my mouth no matter how I try to force it, and grip his hip for balance with the other. Wet sucking sounds fill my ears, accompanied by the helpless noises of a man coming undone.
He swells impossibly hard inside my mouth. His hold on my hair tightens. The tug brings tears to my eyes and a liquid pulse between my thighs.
“You want to do this, Princess, then finish it the right way,” he grinds out, holding me in place. “Swallow every drop.”
Tears leak down my cheeks as he thrusts in a short, shallow rhythm, until salt explodes into my mouth.
Another pulse of hot liquid. Easier this time. When he’s done, I brace myself and push back, gagging as he extracts his cock.
Triumph surges through me as I survey his wrecked state. Killian’s eyes are heavy-lidded, his cheeks flushed, and his hair wild as he slumps against the stone wall. The gold braid on his uniform is twisted every which way. There’s a crease in the hem where he fisted the fabric while holding it.
I press my wrist to my lips, feeling as unsteady as a newborn foal as I try and fail to get to my feet. Killian slaps his belt closedand hauls me up by the elbows, drawing me close to murmur, “You did very well, Princess.”
His mouth meets mine tenderly. The kiss is softer than I expect. Firm and possessive, but with an aching sweetness, too. I pour all of my yearning into that kiss. His arms lock around my waist. He takes his fill of me.
When he finally breaks away, I sway on my feet, too hazed with desperation to stand properly. To breathe. Killian strokes his thumb down the curve of my cheek and says pityingly, “Now you’ll have to wait for my revenge.”
A shiver works down my spine.
He leads me out of the antechamber as if nothing untoward happened, settling his cap and smoothing his unruly dark hair beneath the brim.
Something deep inside me throbs with anticipation.
18
Killian
Beneath my sleeve, the scar on my armwrithes.It started when Briar fell to her knees.
A princess. On her knees. For me.
I couldn’t have turned her down if my life depended upon it. Which it very much does. Had we been caught like that, it would be my neck in the noose, not hers.
Whatever that infection was, it has tied me to her in ways I don’t yet understand. I’ve never allowed fear to rule me. I feel it, though, and it tinges my deep satisfaction with trepidation.
“My arm’s fine,” I finally manage to respond to her question.
“I wouldn’t want to have worsened your condition.” She darts a glance downward. Outwardly demure.
I swallow hard.
Feline triumph radiates from Briar as she sweeps down the hall at my side. As though to prove my point, a huge shape darkens the windows as it wings past. Bigger than a harpy.
They follow her.
That’s why the monsters are flocking to Castle Belterre. They’re drawn to her.
She glides into the receiving room to graciously meet her relatives. Few objections to Briar’s sudden arrival have beenraised, mostly from families disappointed that their daughters weren’t chosen to be Alistair’s queen.
There would be far more protest if people had made the connection between her and the monster incursion that’s followed. The populace is enamored of Briar’s beauty, but they are the ones paying the steepest price. Alistair’s army can protect the nobility for a while.
How long?
If she wanted to, she could destroy this entire kingdom. Briar seems oblivious. What would she do to escape Alister’s control, once she figures it out?
